


Viral

by Sumiscribe



Category: Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:38:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumiscribe/pseuds/Sumiscribe
Summary: A Chosen's work is never done. With the rise of viruses within the digital world, Daisuke, Miyako, Iori and Ken must maintain order and eradicate the viral infections. When Ken is injured by an infected Digimon, it becomes a race against time to find the fix for the thing that ails him. [Set Pre "Digimon Adventure: Tri", Daiken, one-sided Miyaken]





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story is actually my first foray back into fanfiction after many, many years of not doing any writing at all. I cranked out this story (all 4 parts) in just under a month. In some ways, I think it shows, but I'm still fairly happy with it. Please enjoy, and all comments are appreciated. :)

_VIRAL: adjective_

  1. _of, relating to, or caused by a virus._



 

* * *

"Ken-chan, your arm!" Wormmon squeaked.  


At his partner's exclamation, Ken's eyes flashed down to the tear in his sleeve. There, left in the wake of the infected digimon's assault, a ragged tear in the fabric of his left sleeve, and two enflamed holes where it had sunk it's fangs into the thin skin of his lower arm. It had all happened so fast, and though he'd felt the flash of pain when it happened, it all but washed away in the surge of adrenaline that followed. His instincts kicked in - he'd wrenched the insect from his arm, flinging off his attacker, and watched it, along with it's likewise affected swarm hiss and skitter away. He'd near forgotten about it until Wormmon drew his attention back. Blood had begun to blossom from the punctures, smearing and seeping into the fabric of his now ruined jacket. Ken clasped a hand over the wound, vaguely aware that his skin seemed warmer there.  


"It's ok." he replied breathlessly, "I'm ok. It was bound to happen sometime - I was careless," he reasoned aloud, equal parts attempting to ease Wormmon's worries, and also to calm his own racing pulse. Wormmon looked back at him with soulful blue eyes that didn't look convinced, and Ken attempted a half-smile. Really, it was a superficial wound at worst, and though he knew he'd have to treat it later, now was not the time to worry about his arm.  


Ken's D-Terminal had been beeping incessantly for the last half hour, and he didn't have to speculate on who it was, or why; the first email had told him all he'd needed.  


Virus located. The usual isn't working. Need your Help. - Daisuke  


"I should have evolved as soon as we got here," Wormmon began, "I should have-" Ken cut him off.  


"It's not your fault. We were in a hurry. We're _still_ in a hurry. Come on, we have to get to the others," he added.  


With that, Ken started moving again, wordlessly expecting his digimon partner to follow. He'd have to tell his comrades about the cluster he'd stumbled upon, so they could be treated before there was further damage. But that could wait. It all could wait. He had to _get_ to them first, he had to help them.  


His D-terminal beeped again; another email. Ken just increased his speed. He dropped his grasp on his arm and began swinging both for extra momentum. He was vaguely aware that his left ached with every movement, but he pushed it from his mind. No more distractions. No more taking chances. Ken reached for his D-3, and felt the warm glow of light as Wormmon evolved into Stingmon. The sound of wings vibrating on the air filled his ears as his partner quickly overtook his own speed, lifting him from the ground mid-sprint. The earth fell away from his feet, and his stomach gave an uneasy lurch at the sudden change in trajectory.  


_Hang on. Miyako-san. Iori-kun. Daisuke. I'm on my way._

* * *

They were losing ground. Literally. They'd dealt with plenty of virus-infected digimon in recent months, but never one quite this Large or Destructive. The edge of the cliff was beginning to break away in chunks, sending rocks and dirt cascading down the hillside. In recent years, Viruses had been known to pop up throughout the digital world, and as always seemed to happen, the Chosen Children had been gifted the means to eradicate the viruses on a case by case basis. It wasn't flawless, heck it wasn't even efficient, but it was the best they could do with the hand they'd been dealt. It was like the dark towers all over again, taking down one at a time. Sometimes it was simple, other times…

Ankylomon flew backwards through the air, the ground shaking with the force of impact as he scraped across the rocks. Iori winced sympathetically, his cries of encouragement cutting through the air. Aquilamon had been the first to go down, and Miyako sat crouched behind one of the larger boulders, covered in dirt and scrapes as she protectively cradled Pururumon against her chest. Iori and Ankylomon had been doing their best, and XVmon was backing them up, but it was becoming quite clear to all of them that this digimon was going to take a lot more beating before it was weakened enough to be Treated for the virus that was influencing it.

They needed more firepower. They needed Imperialdramon. _Desperately._

Today just had to be the one day that Ken decided that school was still important. It's not like they wouldn't have two more years to think about High School Entrance Exams.

For what must have been the dozenth time in the last ten minutes, Daisuke anxiously punched his fingers on the D-terminal, his back pressed up against another chunk of upturned rock. "Damnit Ken, _answer me_ ," he muttered, eyes darting up and around as XVMon's laser attack pierced the sky. Tortured animalistic screams filled the air, and the ground shook with the force of giant feet staggering across the broken earth.

" _Motomiya!_ "

The sound of his name drew Daisuke's attention immediately. Light glinted off his ever-present goggles as his gaze shot up. Daisuke couldn't help the relief that flooded him at the familiar sight, nor the grin that rose to his face as he shot to his feet..

"Looks like the cavalry's finally here!" he crowed, drawing the attention of Miyako and Iori before either saw what it was he was talking about.

There was Stingmon on the horizon, and seated in his folded arms, his dark haired human partner, and Daisuke's best friend of three years. Shoving the d-terminal away into his pocket, Daisuke wasted no time in running to meet them. Stingmon landed softly a few yards away from the action, setting Ken gently on his feet. The goggle-crowned teen was already reaching for his D-3, ready to jump.

"What took so long?!" cried Daisuke, "we're in a real pinch here!"

"Sorry," was Ken's strained reply. Daisuke stopped short. It was only one word, but something was wrong; something about his voice, his face, it was all just… _off._ "We ran into some trouble along the way."

Daisuke had never been the most observant person in the world, or the quickest to catch onto things, but when it came to Ken he knew his habits and mannerisms almost as well as he knew his own. Call it a side effect of the number of times they'd jogress'd, or how much time they had spent together despite the hours-long commutes between Odaiba and Tamachi. Whatever it was, there was something about the way Stingmon was hovering, the way he got when he was being exceptionally protective of Ken. Out of the corner of his eye, Daisuke saw the flash of soiled, torn sleeve, and the dark stain. For one brief moment, he forgot about the disaster unfolding behind him.

"Is that blood? What happened?" he asked, warm eyes wide with alarm as he instinctively reached for Ken's arm. Ken flinched back, and Daisuke recoiled at the response.

"There's a cluster of infected digimon in the woods south of here," Ken offered, breathless, probably from running. "We'll need to go back and handle them once we've taken care of this."

Daisuke was barely listening, too busy _looking_. Hadn't Stingmon just carried him in? So why would he be out of breath? And his face…

"Hey man, you don't look so good," Daisuke interjected, his grip on the D-3 tightening. Ken's shoulders loosened up, and he clapped a hand on Daisuke's shoulder.

"I'm fine, it's not that bad. We have more important things to handle right now."

The way Ken held up his own D-3 was a clear message that the discussion was over, and for a moment, Daisuke was appeased. With that, Stingmon launched himself off the ground, and he and XVmon made eye-contact across the battlefield. Both nodded.

"Alright, here we go," said Daisuke, holding up his own D-3. The two digivices flashed, changing to matching colors as they expelled concentrated beams of light. Daisuke, being as he was, dashed off in pursuit of their Digimon.

 

_XVMON!_

_STINGMON!_

_JOGRESS EVOLUTION_

 

The two digimons' bodies seemed to dissolve into so much light, and Daisuke waited with baited breath for that familiar _rush_ that came over him every time they initiated the Jogress partnership. It had never just been their Digimon that fell into sync when it happened. Even from the first time, before Ken had been entirely willing to join forces, Daisuke had felt the strong, steady beating inside his chest; his heart, Ken's heart, and it was as if their minds had become one entity, moving in perfect harmony. They moved the same, they knew instinctively what the other was thinking. It was strong, and almost intrusive, and intoxicating in a way that set every hair on the back of his neck standing on end. It was electricity in his veins, and fire in his bones. This time, as he watched the two distinct lights bleed and blend, emerging reformed as Paildramon, Daisuke knew something was off.

Paildramon was Perfect, as he always was in Daisuke's eyes; strong, confident, capable. One more surge of light, and he'd evolve again, and they'd all be standing in the shadow of Imperialdramon, their trump card, their savior. That wasn't what was wrong - Paildramon was already getting in a few good hits before making the leap. There was nothing wrong with Paildramon, but there was something very wrong with _him._ Instead of the strong, steady thumping of two hearts in his chest, echoing in his ears like a war drum, Daisuke felt overcome by a wave of something hot and sickening. Something skipped and fluttered in his chest, and not in a pleasant way; more like he'd swallowed a bird, and it wanted out of the cage that was his chest. He felt both healthy and ill at once, and for a moment he stood frozen, trying to reconcile the strange sensation as the battle raged on in front of him. That's when he felt the twinge of alarm in the back of his mind, and he turned to look back at his companion.

Ken had not moved from the spot where Stingmon had set him down, but his face had gone from suspiciously pale to downright ashen. Beads of sweat formed along his brow, dampening the fine fringe that brushed his forehead. Not only that, he was staring at the ground several feet in front of him, D-3 clenched in his right hand, while his left grasped at the collar of his shirt. Trying to loosen his collar, or maybe he was trying to catch the bird, or grip onto that stable beating in the center. The distinct lack of synergy was throwing them both off. Daisuke's gaze seemed to will him to lift his chin at that exact moment. Their eyes met, and Ken's widened in alarm, and realization. Daisuke felt it. They _both_ felt it. Time seemed to slow down as Daisuke watched the focus go out of Ken's gaze, eyelids sagging lower as the world seemed to slide sideways even as it remained still and upright. The disorienting, dizzying feeling slowed Daisuke's reaction time, and for a moment the world turned gray. He watched the D-3 slip from Ken's fingers, arms falling slack as his knees buckled and his body swayed forward, pitching toward the ground.

" _Ken!"_ Daisuke dove forward, arms outstretched, just in time to clumsily catch his jogress partner before they both to hit the ground. Daisuke hissed, eyes clenched, but the pain passed quickly. He felt the full weight of Ken's body on top of his own, and he sat up, jagged rocks be damned. Behind them, he distantly felt the warmth of light as Paildramon evolved to Imperialdramon. It did nothing to ease the feeling of his heart beating in his throat.

"Hey, c'mon, what's wrong? Pull it together!" Daisuke pleaded, turning Ken over in his arms.

Ken made no reply, except for the strained sound of his breathing. With one arm wrapped under his shoulders, Daisuke gave his best friend a gentle shake. Though not completely unconscious, Ken was practically boneless, the way he allowed Daisuke to push and pull him, his head lolling to one side to rest against his shoulder. Remembering the injury from before, Daisuke reached again for Ken's arm. His partner tensed and inhaled sharply as Daisuke tightly grasped his elbow in one hand, using his other to slide the torn sleeve up Ken's forearm. Gloved fingers grazed over the broken skin, and the grizzly sight caused Daisuke's throat to clench. The wound was swollen, red and angry skin radiating out from the punctures, faint bruising visible beneath the smear of dried blood. Even through the fabric of his gloves, Ken's skin felt hot to touch.

"POSITRON LASER!" echoed in the dual-voiced cry of Imperialdramon as the air crackled with pure energy.

The ground beneath them buckled and shuddered, and Daisuke instinctively pulled Ken closer in a protective grip, shielding him from flying debris. That bird that had been flapping around in his chest was growing sluggish, and Daisuke wasn't sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Aware that things had grown quieter suddenly, he looked up and over his shoulder, just in time to watch the dust clear, their formidable foe lying prone on the jagged, broken ground.

"Miyako! The Anti-Virus!" cried Imperialdramon, as Iori knelt near his foot to retrieve the fallen Upamon.

Miyako nodded, pushing herself off the ground, shifting Pururumon into the fold of one arm as she retrieved her D-3. "Anti-Virus, Initiate!" She cried, and the screen glowed, showering light over the area. The swirling miasmic shadow that had previously encircled their massive opponent faded away until the light had washed out the dark. When the glow dimmed, a tiny blob of a baby digimon laid in the very center of the massive near-crater it had created. Iori seemed to visibly relax, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Geez… Who'd have ever guessed that something little like this could become something like… _that,_ " Miyako mumbled, using the back of her hand to wipe her brow. Pururumon shifted in her arms, blinking big eyes at everyone gathered. Miyako stepped forward, staggering over the rocks, and scooping the sleeping baby into her other arm. "Awww… it's actually kinda cute now. Poor little thing."

"Is it just me, or does it seem like these infections are getting more frequent, and harder to fix?" Iori mused

"You think so too? I thought it was just me…"

With the battle over, Imperialdramon turned back to his Partners, no doubt expecting the usual enthusiastic praise that they normally showered on him. When it did not come, there was a distinct shift in mood.

"Daisuke? Ken?"

All eyes had turned to Daisuke then, still crouched on the ground, muttering to the figure draped across his lap. At the sound of his own name though, he looked up at his team, his face panic stricken. "Guys, something's wrong with Ken!" he shouted, pulling his eyes back to the twisted face in his lap.

Imperialdramon dissolved into a pool of light, leaving Chicomon and Leafmon in his place. The bird in Daisuke's chest dissolved along with it, the connection severed. There was no doubt in his mind anymore that he had been picking up on what Ken was feeling, but somehow the lack of connection was even more unnerving; now, he had no way of knowing whether it was getting worse. The way Ken's brow was pinched and his breathing hitched did nothing to assuage Daisuke's concerns.

"C'mon, talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong," he urged, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It… It just hurts…a little," was all that managed to pass through Ken's teeth, as he reached to cover the bite marks in his arm.

The sound of voices and hurried footsteps gradually drew closer, until Iori, Miyako, and all of the digimon were circled around them. "Daisuke, what's wrong?" Chicomon cried, bouncing alongside their defacto leader. But Daisuke couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"Ken-chan? Ken-chan," Leafmon chirped repeatedly, bouncing anxiously, then settling himself onto his partner's thigh. With much effort, Ken pulled himself up, reaching to stroke his little digimon; a desperate attempt to ease his worries, that was fooling no one.

"What happened?!" Miyako demanded, fists clenched and eyes darting back and forth between Ken, Leafmon, and the rest of the group in turn.

"Something bit 'im," Daisuke all but spat in reply. All eyes were on Ken now, but he refused to look up at them.

"We ...ran into...some infected Digimon - on the way here-" he rasped between breaths, focused intently on stroking Leafmon's head. The baby digimon's little leaf drooped as he nuzzled up against Ken, worry pulling at his soft baby features. Daisuke kept an arm at Ken's back, hand planted squarely between his shoulder blades. He wasn't entirely convinced he was going to stay sitting up.

"Was it venomous?" asked Iori

"I didn't think so at the time, but-"

"Then, do you think the Virus…?" Miyako's voice this time.

"I don't know."

"Can you stand? What are your symptoms?"

"How deep is it?" chimed Iori

"Is it still bleeding?"

"Is there any necrosis-"

"Any what?"

"Obviously dead or rotting tissue,"

"Gross, Iori!"

"I'm just asking-"

Their voices were rising into a swirl of bleeding noise, but Ken had fallen silent again. Daisuke felt the muscles under his hand suddenly clench as Ken, wide eyed, lifted a hand to cover his mouth.

_Shit, is he gonna throw up?!_ was Daisuke's panicked thought, and he recoiled reflexively. Blessedly, Ken seemed to choke back whatever wave of ill had crashed over him. Even still, Daisuke's temper had peaked.

"Will you guys shut up! This isn't helping!" he shouted at his comrades, and for one surprised instant they stopped. He'd even drawn Ken's attention.

"You're all making this … a bigger deal than it needs to be," Ken hissed, despite the fact that not five minutes ago he'd been doubling over and falling into Daisuke's arms. It was all becoming just too much attention for Ken's comfort, and he drew away from Daisuke, tucking one leg under the other, fully intending to get back on his feet.

"I just feel a little unsteady, it's probably-"

As it turned out, standing was not a good idea. The sudden change in altitude proved to be too much; no sooner had he pushed himself to a standing position, Leafmon tucked in the crook of his right arm, he swayed and bent over, reaching to cradle his head in his hand. Daisuke was on his feet instantly, catching Ken by the shoulders.

"Stop trying to play this off like it's nothing, you're obviously not okay."

Ken exhaled a ragged sigh, finally leaning heavily against Daisuke's shoulder. "Maybe you're right," he murmured, begrudgingly accepting that things may have been worse than he wanted them to be.

By this point, Iori had his nose practically pressed to the screen of his phone as he scrolled frantically through search results. He may have been the youngest of them at the age of only twelve-years-old, but over the years he had definitely grown to be one of the more resourceful among the chosen - a habit he had probably picked up from Koushiro's influence. Miyako however, was decidedly less composed, hovering around the other boys as Chicomon hopped up into the nest of Daisuke's mahogany hair, fidgeting sadly with the rim of his goggles.

"We need to get him to a hospital," said Miyako, her tone laced with worry.

"And tell them what?" Daisuke asked incredulously, shifting his hold on Ken to pull an arm up around his shoulder, Leafmon jumping to perch in the dip between Ken's neck and shoulder, " 'Hey, my buddy got bit by a maybe-poisonous maybe-not monster from the digital world? Ya got anything for that?' "

Miyako seemed to deflate for a moment. Daisuke had a point, even if it was a rare occasion for him. A second later, Miyako's cheeks puffed out in agitation, "I don't know, but we can't just pretend there's nothing wrong!"

"I wasn't _planning on it,_ " Daisuke snapped.

"If it was in fact venomous, he shouldn't move too much anyway," Iori interjected, before Miyako and Daisuke's argument could escalate further. "It says here that movement will increase circulation and spread of venom through the bloodstream, agitating symptoms and causing potential complications. It does say that venomous bites are very rarely lethal to humans-"

"That's good!" Miyako cried in relief, but Iori looked up at her with a mix of unreadable emotions, though none of them was 'hope'.

"But, this article is about spider and snake bites. It might not apply the same to a Digimon bite."

"Well, it's all we've got to go on right now, right?" Miyako replied, almost begging for someone to agree with her grasps at hope.

"Does it say anything else?" asked Daisuke, unable to hide the nervous edge to his words as he looped an arm around Ken's waist, securing his grip on his unsteady friend.

"Just that bites should be kept below heart level to reduce the spread of venom, remove any constrictive clothing or jewelry at the site of bite in anticipation of swelling, and that despite what the old wives tales say, you should definitely _not_ attempt to suck the venom out of the wound," replied Iori, back to his frantic scrolling. "There's also a lot of mention of Anti-Venom, but that's usually only available at and administered by a hospital after you've identified the type of snake, spider, or other insect the bite came from."

"Anti-Venom! That's it!" cried Miyako, nearly dropping poor Pururumon and their sleepy new addition in the process. "Maybe there's some kinda cure, like, a naturally occurring antidote!"

"But how're we supposed to find that? We don't even know what bit him."

"We may be able to find them again."

Everyone's attention turned to Ken at that moment, though it wasn't Ken who spoke - it was Leafmon. "They were traveling in a group in the forest to the south of here."

"Leafmon's right," Ken lifted his head, his voice low and soft, "they were obviously affected by a virus. That's a problem that we need to address anyway before…" he winced, attempting to take more of his weight onto his own feet, "before it spreads."

" 'We' nothing, _you're_ in no shape to go _anywhere_ ," said Daisuke, and Ken gave him a sidelong glance.

"Well we can't just leave him here alone," piped Miyako.

"So what do you suggest?" asked Iori, pocketing his phone.

"I'll stay."

Miyako and Iori's heads turned sharply toward Daisuke, staring at him as if he'd sprouted a second head. The words had popped out of his mouth without missing a beat. Even Ken had inclined his head ever-so slightly.

"What? I'll stay," he reiterated, "and you two can track down the infected digimon. Iori, you're better at that research stuff than me or Miyako, and Miyako, you've already got the anti-virus loaded on your D-3. You guys are better off sticking together, and if something comes our way, I'm the best one to get us out of here in a hurry."

"I guess that does make the most sense…" Miyako begrudgingly admitted, even though Daisuke's rare moments of clarity and insight still surprised her, even three years after they'd begun working together.

"Then we shouldn't waste anymore time," said Iori as Upamon, now fully awake, hopped up to sit on his shoulder, "we can keep in contact through email."

Iori turned and wasted no time in beginning to walk south towards the woods. Miyako however, hesitated for a moment - it was all so sudden, she barely had the chance to process that they were already splitting up. While Pururumon had recovered enough to bounce up and perch himself on Miyako's shoulder, the tiny blob she'd rescued from the crater continued to snooze peacefully in her arms. "I'll take this little guy with us," she said finally, "We can drop him off somewhere when he wakes up."

Daisuke nodded. "Stay safe."

  
Miyako offered a watered down smile and began to walk backwards. "We'll be back soon, so wait for us," she said, before she turned and pursued Iori.  


Daisuke stared after their retreating forms for quite a while, almost oblivious to the digimon squirming in his hair. It was Ken who brought him back to his senses, the feel of his slick hair brushing against Daisuke's cheek as he turned to lean more heavily against him. His eyes had slid completely shut, and Daisuke was hyper aware of the sound of Ken's breathing near his ear. Leafmon let out a tiny whine as he nuzzled against Ken's neck.

"I'm sorry," Ken breathed, "I should have been more careful."

"Hey, don't apologize," Daisuke's voice was firm, but he forced a smile. He had to stay positive. "Just relax."

"Is he gonna be ok?" Chicomon asked, pressing down on Daisuke's head.

"Yeah," Daisuke's voice cracked; even his own ears weren't convinced. "...C'mon, let's get you somewhere to lie down."

As Daisuke pulled Ken closer, supporting his every step away from the battlefield, he tried not to think about the unnatural heat that burned through his clothes.


	2. Part II

_ VIRAL: Adjective _ _   
_ _       2.   Pertaining to or involving the spreading of information and opinions _

 

* * *

“They did say the woods to the south, right?”  Miyako was the one to break the tense silence that had fallen between her, Iori, and their digimon partners.   Normally the digimon were lively and talkative, but it was clear that in the wake of their most recent fight, they were all more concerned about Ken’s condition.   
  
“Yes.  And I’m sure they haven’t gotten far,” replied Iori, looking carefully at their surroundings.     
  
“It’s just... we’ve been looking for what seems like forever, and there’s just nothing out here.”   
  
After some much needed rest, Pururumon had evolved back to Poromon, and was now doing his best to fly small circles around their little team, looking for any signs of trouble, or traces they could follow.  Their new addition, however, was still sleeping in the crook of Miyako’s elbow.    
  
Iori’s only response was silence.  Always a bit more serious than someone of his age would normally seem, he was the inheritor of Knowledge and Honesty; little white lies of encouragement had never been his strong suit, and although he was determined to find the answers they were looking for, his hopes were not high.  Although he and Ken had never been close, they were team-mates, and he was just as concerned for him as Miyako and the others.  At least, he thought so. Of course, three years ago, things would have been different.  

_ Why am I even thinking about that? _   Iori wondered to himself.  Things had changed a lot since then.  Ken had clearly displayed his merits and commitments to the team, and the days of the Digimon Kaiser were all but shadows in their memories.   It was hard to really believe that Ken and the Kaiser were even the same person, and once they’d learned about the Dark Seed that had influenced his behavior… well, it all seemed a little too harsh to hold him completely accountable for his actions back then (even if Ken continued to blame himself).     
  
Still, there had been a time when Iori would not have been as driven as he was now, and that thought made him just a little sick to his stomach.     
  
“What if we don’t find them?” Miyako’s voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned to look at her.     
  
Miyako had a thumb to her teeth, absently chewing on her nail.  “What if we run out of time?”   
  
“Miyako-san?”     
  
“I mean, this is really,  _ really _ serious, right?” Miyako continued, even as she bent over bushes, parting branches, looking for any sign that something had been there.  

“Miyako-san.”   
  
“And even if we find them, what if there’s no antidote?”  Her voice rose in pitch, wavering slightly, “Or what if we spend all this time, and we finally find it, but we get back and--”   
  
“ _ Miyako-san. _ ”   
  
She flinched, and froze, as if finally hearing him.  Slowly she turned toward Iori, and he saw her eyes fogged behind her large glasses, corners of her mouth wavering.  Iori softened, releasing a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying in his shoulders.     
  
“You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”   
  
Poromon came to land on Miyako’s shoulder.  Pressing her lips together, Miyako reached for her glasses and pulled them off so that she could rub at her eyes.  “Well, I mean… it could have been any of us, ya know?  I just never expected…”

Iori waited for her to finish, but she didn’t.    
  
“Miyako-san, are you crying?”   
  
“No!” Miyako replied, almost too quickly, too sharply.  Hastily, she pushed her glasses back onto her face.  “I was just thinking, everything was fine yesterday, and this kind of thing can happen anytime, and now it has, and... And what if I never get a chance to tell him how I feel about him?”   
  
Iori stared at her blankly. This was about a  _ crush _ ? 

“I thought you were over him.”   
  
Miyako jumped, as if she hadn’t realized she’d spoken that last part aloud.     
  
“I was! I mean, I  _ am. _  ...Maybe.” she sighed “I dunno.”

“What do you mean?”   
  
“I mean, I thought I didn’t  _ like _ like him like that, like it was just a silly school girl crush, and it’s different now that we’re friends.  But then this happens, and now I’m having second thoughts.”

Iori just continued to stare at her.  Miyako, something of a big-sister to him, was three years his senior, and she’d been crushing on boys for almost as long as he could remember.  Iori, however, was a bit of a late bloomer, and only just beginning to notice some girls, and nothing to the extent of even Daisuke’s old crush on Hikari when they were eleven.   Girls still confused him.   
  
“Is that really that important right now? I mean, he’s our friend.  You might feel worried like that if it was anyone else you knew, too.” Iori averted his gaze. “Maybe you’re only thinking about it because you think you may never get the chance.  But, if there were a ‘later’, you may not feel that way at all.”   
  
Miyako averted her gaze, guilt plain on her face.  “I guess you’re right.”   
  
Without another word, both of them turned back to the task at hand.  Upamon hopped about on the ground, looking for any signs down low that the humans may have missed.  As the minutes passed, Iori’s own guilt began to gnaw at him.  He sighed.     
  
“You should tell him.”   
  
“Huh?”  Miyako glanced up.  

“Ichijouji-san,” he clarified. “When we get back, if you still are having second thoughts, you should tell him.”

“Iori…”   
  
“But, until we get back, don’t get distracted by it,” Iori added, giving her as stern a look as his youthful face could manage.  “What he needs right now is for us to be focused.  Because you’re right…”  he deflated, eyes drifting away.  “We don’t have a lot of time.”

That was when the little digimon in Miyako’s arms finally woke up.   
  


* * *

“ _ Hhck _ \--!”   
  
Daisuke cringed as he rubbed slow, awkward circles on his best friend’s back.  He could think of nothing else to do in this situation, and despite his assertion that he was the best choice to stay with Ken, he was feeling spectacularly useless right about that moment.  Ken had dropped all semblance of pride and composure when, after roughly half an hour of Daisuke’s well-meaning attempts at distraction, his insides finally succeeded in turning against him.  Now, Ken leaned heavily against the tree trunk with one arm, the other wound tightly around his abdomen.  His body clenched and heaved mercilessly, as it had for the last five minutes, though there was no longer anything left for his stomach to expel.  Daisuke was shaken; he’d never seen anyone this sick before, and he’d certainly never seen  _ Ken _ this way. He’d seen Ken terrified, he’d seen him broken and defeated, but nothing like  _ this.  _ And the sounds he was making?  Daisuke could tell he was stifling them in one last ditch effort at dignity, but they almost made him sick as well.     
  
Chicomon and Leafmon had stopped asking questions some time ago. Daisuke got the feeling they didn’t entirely understand what was happening, just that something was very, very wrong.  Leafmon seemed to have silently landed on the assumption that Ken was dying, and his eyes seemed almost perpetually filled with tears waiting to fall.   Now, both he and Chicomon hovered to the side, and Chicomon had taken on the task of nuzzling up to Leafmon, as if to comfort his jogress partner.

After what felt like an eternity of torture, with one final sputtering cough it all seemed to pass. The tension in Ken’s shoulders uncoiled, his energy utterly spent.  He gulped the air as if it were water, and he were dying of thirst.   Slowly, he straightened, eyes glassy and half-lidded.  When it seemed safe, Daisuke held out the half-drained bottle of water he’d retrieved from his bag, the cap already removed.

“Here.”   
  
Ken eyed his offering warily, but slowly took the bottle, and lifted it to dry lips.  Daisuke noted that the ghastly pallor of his skin clashed riotously with the flush of fever splashed across his cheeks, each making the other more pronounced.  Slowly, hesitantly, Ken swallowed.  Daisuke held his breath.  Ken exhaled, and Daisuke relaxed, but it was short lived.  Violet eyes snapped open as Ken jerked the bottle away from his mouth, replacing it with his hand as he gagged almost instantly.  Water dribbled from his fingers as he coughed.   Daisuke’s stomach dropped.  

  
_ He can’t even keep water down?   _ He thought.   _ This is bad.   _ Some part of him had hoped, maybe whatever toxin was making him sick would just work it’s way through Ken’s system, and he’d get better, and they wouldn’t need any kind of medicine after all.  He was starting to realize just how wrong he’d been. The guilt of not taking Miyako’s suggestion of getting Ken to a hospital was like an anvil on his chest.

“Ok, ok… forget the water,” said Daisuke, trying his best to sound positive.  He gingerly took the bottle from Ken’s hand, then screwed the cap back in place.  “How bout you just lay down for a bit?”   
  
Ken gave his head the very slightest of shakes, his fingers still hovering near his lips. 

“No… no, I can’t, it’ll just…”  he trailed off, placing his hand over his mouth again, as if in anticipation of more of the same.    
  
Daisuke heard the waver in Ken’s voice, and saw the fear in his eyes.  It was like he was staring at eleven-year-old Ken again, staring down the darkness, wanting to scream.  He was terrified.   Suddenly, Daisuke’s own fears didn’t matter; all that mattered, was Ken.  Instinctively, Daisuke dropped the bottle, grasping Ken’s shoulders firmly with both hands.   
  
“Hey.  Just, focus on me, ok?” said Daisuke, setting his eyes on Ken’s, willing him to look him in the face.  “Listen, you’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be  _ fine _ ,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as Ken.    
  
Gingerly, Daisuke lead him around the side of the tree.  “You don’t have to lay down, just… just sit with me, ok?”   
  
Ken slowly lowered his hand, and tipped his chin in the subtlest of nods.  Exhaling a sigh of relief, Daisuke pulled him close, then gently eased them both to the ground.  Within minutes, he had them settled.  Soon, their digimon had joined them, with Chicomon nuzzling up to Daisuke, and Leafmon sitting in Ken’s lap.  Mindlessly, Ken reached for his collar, loosening the buttons, as if he couldn’t breathe with them fastened.  Daisuke tried not to think about how accurate that might actually be.  Eventually though, Ken relaxed, falling into a restless doze as he slumped against his friend, one hand resting on top of Leafmon.  Soon, both digimon followed his example.  For all intents and purposes, Daisuke was alone, and he heaved a rattling sigh.  With his free arm, he reached to retrieve his D-terminal, flipped it open, and typed a quick email to Iori.    
  
Daisuke was sure of just one thing, as he pressed the send button; if something happened, and Ken didn’t recover, he was never going to forgive himself.  

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, bringing that baby digimon with her may have been their greatest fortune.   Once awake and able to talk to talk to them, they finally had a lead on their rogue digimon.  Although they hadn’t realized it immediately, the new tiny blob was a Motimon, and according to his own account, he had belonged to a small swarm of Kunemon and Dokunemon, and their higher evolutions. Over the last week every one of them had slowly begun to exhibit nasty behaviour.  It spread like an infection, gradually affecting all of them.  “It’s like they weren’t themselves!”  the baby digimon proclaimed “they didn’t seem to even recognize each other. And then, once it got me… Well, I’m sorry for what happened.”   
  
“It sounds like your family could be the ones our friend ran into,” said Miyako, as they continued through the wood, following the directions of their new companion. “If they do live in these woods, then that would explain why they just happened to be there when he came through, and why you weren’t too far away from them.”

Motimon nodded.     
  
“So, if you’re already virus types… becoming infected shouldn’t have had that kind of reaction on you, should it?” Iori mused.   
  
“We still don’t really understand these things. We’ve been calling it a ‘Virus’,  but maybe it’s a different kind of data corruption, and the the two different types are in such conflict, it makes them go totally crazy,” replied Miyako.   
  
“Whatever it was, we’ll need to talk to Gennai-san about it, after we get Ken taken care of.”   
  
“And we can help your family, too!” cried Upamon.    
  
“That’s right!  The same thing that cured you, can also cure them,” added Poromon.   
  
“We’ll have to be careful though,” Iori cautioned.   
  
“Iori’s right,” said Miyako, the gravity of the situation settling in her stomach. “If they’re affected like Motimon says, and that’s how Ken-kun got attacked, we can’t be sure they won’t do the same to us.”   
  
“Motimon, about our friend…” Iori turned his attention to the digimon, who was still riding in Miyako’s arms, “Is there any kind of remedy to counteract a Dokunemon’s venom?”   
  


“Hmmm…” he crossed his squishy little arms, and seemed to think deeply for a long moment.   “Well, not exactly.”   
  
Miyako’s heart sank, and her steps faltered. A cold dread washed over her. Iori stopped, and glanced back at Miyako.      
  
“So… so we can’t do anything at all?” she asked, her voice small.   
  
The air was so tense you could have plucked it like the string of a guitar.  Four pairs of eyes shifted back and forth between each other.   
  
“No, no, I didn’t say that,” piped Motimon. “There’s one thing you  _ could _ try.”   
  
“What is it?” Upamon chirped   
  
“Please tell us!”  added Poromon.  Miyako’s grip on Motimon tightening reflexively, until he let out a little squeak. Cheeks flushed with embarrassed, Miyako loosened her grip, flashing him an apologetic look.   
  
“Well, I don’t know a lot about it.  But there’s this flower, it’s called the Virala Lily.  If you pluck it’s petals and turn it into a tea, it makes a remedy that can cure any number of things!  Poisoning, Paralysis, you name it!”   
  
“And it really works?” Miyako asked, wanting desperately to believe, but hesitant to hope.    
  
“Sure! At least, it’s supposed to.  Never had a use for it myself. Tons of Digimon want to make and sell the stuff!  But that flower is pretty rare, and can be hard to find. I’m not even sure where it grows… but maybe Dokugumon does.”   
  
Miyako and Iori exchanged a glance. If Miyako had to guess, Iori was probably thinking the same thing she was. The whole thing sounded impossible, and perhaps too good to be true.      
  


“Well… I guess we should get moving then!” said Miyako, scraping the bottom of her resolve and optimism.   
  
“Yes!  The sooner we get Motimon home, clear up the infection and talk to the others, the sooner we can start looking for the lily.” Iori added.   
  


With that, Motimon jumped from Miyako’s arms.  “We’re not far now!  Just follow me!” he said, taking a sharp left and leading them further into the woods.      
  
The chosen and their digimon partners followed, Upamon and Poromon having placed themselves between Motimon and their human counterparts.  Iori and Miyako took up the rear.   
  
“Are we really chasing down a ‘Magic Flower’?” Iori asked under his breath, “I can’t believe our circumstances have come to something like this.”   
  
Miyako had to admit, It was equal parts promising, and suspicious.   
  
“It’s all we have to go on right now,” she replied, though she didn’t sound entirely convincing either.   
  
“Do you think we can trust him?”   
  
“I don’t see why not,” Miyako reasoned, “He seems genuinely grateful that we’re helping him and his family.  I don’t think he’d have any reason to lie to us.  If he’s not telling us the truth, I think it’s only because he doesn’t know any better.”   
  
At that moment, Iori’s D-terminal beeped.  Without missing a step, he reached for the device and flipped it open.  As his eyes scanned the screen, Miyako watched him anxiously, his already serious expression shifting a twinge darker.   
  
“Well, I hope Motimon is right.” said Iori.   
  
“What does it say?” Miyako asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.     
  
Instead of reading it to her, Iori simply held the device out for her to see.  There, were five simple words, from Daisuke.  As her eyes drifted over the lettering, her insides turned to ice.    
  
_ He’s getting worse.   Please Hurry.  _

Without thinking, Miyako snatched the D-terminal from Iori’s hands.  Surprised by her sudden actions, Iori sputtered in protest as she began typing.   
  
“Miyako-san, what’re you--”   
  
“I’m writing him back.  They need to know what we found out.”   
  
“But we don’t even know yet if it’s  _ real _ ,” replied Iori.

“We have to believe it is,” said Miyako, her fingers flying furiously over the keys.  “It has to be.”   
  
_ It just  _ has  _ to be. _

* * *

“-- A flower?” 

Daisuke cradled his D-terminal in one hand, the other pinned to his side.  Ken was too anxious to lie down, so instead he sat half slumped, with the whole of his weight against Daisuke’s shoulder.  Having his arm pressed between Ken and the tree was starting to send pins and needles through his fingers, but Daisuke dared not disturb him. Ken’s sleep was restless, dark lashes fluttering over burning cheeks as he drifted in and out, his head shifting occasionally from one side, to the other.   
  
Miyako’s response sounded… Well it sounded like something out of a storybook, or a video game.  Even so, it lit a spark of hope inside him.  They had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.  If it was real, they’d have exactly what they needed soon, and if not...

Ken’s head lolled to towards Daisuke, a soft murmur falling from his lips.  Daisuke set his D-terminal aside, then gently reached to pull the sweaty fringe from Ken’s eyes.  His brow was pinched, his eyelids twitching.       
  
The spark dimmed, replaced by a cold knot. Daisuke concluded, he had  _ quite a bit  _ to lose.


	3. Part III

_ VIRAL; adjective _ _   
_ _      3.  From the Sanskrit “virala” - precious, rare, infrequent, one in a million kind. _

* * *

 

It had been what felt like the longest three hours of their young lives.  They had found Motimon’s swarm, eradicated whatever it was that had been affecting all of them, and finally, blessedly, in gratitude for their help, been told where they could begin to look for a Virala Lily.

_ Good luck finding that.  It supposedly grows in the hills to the east, but they’re rare.  Gotta have exactly the right conditions, and sharp eyes. _

Not to be deterred by slim odds, Miyako, Iori, Hawkmon and Armadimon had set to work immediately.  They looked high and low, quite literally, with Hawkmon flying up scouring the higher elevations, while the others split up to cover more ground.  The problem wasn’t finding a flower --  there were flowers  _ everywhere _ , but many of them looked alike.  Every time one of them thought they may have found one at last, closer inspection proved them wrong.   Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and every failure felt like another grain of sand slipping through the hourglass. They weren’t sure whether a lack of response from Daisuke was Good News or Bad News, and none of them eager to ask what the others thought. 

Fight GranKuwagamon.  Return Motimon to his home. Wear down and cure the Kunemon, Dokunemon and Dokugamon.  Scour land for what seemed like forever.  It was wearing them all down, their energy waning, and their hopes dipping lower.  The longer they spent looking, empty handed, the worse Ken’s chance’s for a recovery.  Just when Iori’s mind was beginning to wander to darker places, Miyako’s voice carried over the hillside, bright and breathless with exhaustion and delight.     
  
“I found it!”   
  
When Iori and the others found her, she was on her knees and elbows in the dirt, as if she were worshiping the demure plant in front of her.  There, propped up among sparse blades of grass and pebbles, clustered in among more of the same flowers that covered the entire hillside, was the thing they had been searching for.   Less a ‘lily’ and more a of larger-than-average honeysuckle, it was exactly as Dokugamon had described to them.

  
“You’re… you’re really sure that’s the one?” asked Iori, still trying to catch his breath.   
  
“It is!  It really is!”  Miyako cried as she pried at the roots, loosening the bloom from the soil.  “See!  Spots on the stem, gradient coloring, just like Dokugamon said… this is it!”    
  
“Well done, Miyako-san!” Hawkmon praised, and Miyako looked up at him with a bright smile, cradling the flower softly between her fingers.    
  
“Now we just need to find a way to brew the remedy, and get back as quickly as possible,” said Iori.   
  
And just like that, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of her sails, her facing falling.  

“I ...didn’t bring anything to cook with, did you?”   
  
Iori glumly shook his head.  “I didn’t think we were going to be here past dinner time.”   
  
“Oh!” Armadimon cut in, “When I was on the other side of the hill, I saw a village!  Maybe someone there will let us use their stuff,” said Armadimon.   
  
“We have to try, it’s our only option,” said Miyako. “Hawkmon, I know you must be tired, but can you evolve into Aquilamon and carry us there? We need to move fast.”   
  
Hawkmon seemed to puff his chest with pride “You don’t even need to ask! For the sake of you and our comrades, I would do anything!”   
  
Folding the flower delicately in a handkerchief, Miyako slipped it into her pocket and withdrew her D-3.

“Then let’s go!”

* * *

 

The ground beneath Ken’s feet shifted, and slipped, the world all black sand at midnight.  Ken hated the dark, but yet here he was.  A moon-and-star-less sky loomed overhead, the air stale, and stifling.  Hot as mid-day in August, but silent as snowfall.  No, not silent. He could hear  _ everything _ .  His breath, whistling, rattling, in and out.  His pulse, blood rushing through his ears.  He put one foot in front of the other.  Left, right, left, right, sink, and slide, and slip, the sound of shifting grains as loud as grinding stones.  The heat pressed down on him.       
  
“Motomiya?”  he called to the darkness, and it seemed to swallow his voice.  “Wormmon?”  And again, as if the air were wrapping his words neatly into a velvet box.     
  
They had been there a minute ago, hadn’t they?  Of course they had. They’d gotten separated in the dark, but he’d find them again. He had to stay focused.   If he could just find the lightswitch, or the wall.  Hesitantly, he reached out, and touched nothing.     
  
“Miyako-san?  Iori-kun?”  his words drowned in the sound of water in his head.  “ _ Motomiya?”  _ he tried again, louder this time.     
  
Nothing but the sounds of his own body, echoed back to him.  His heart beat.  Louder, faster, faster with every desperate step.    
  
“Ken-chan.”   
  
He stopped abruptly, and all sound vanished.  As Ken turned over his shoulder, Wormmon gazed at him from a distance, clear as day in the pitch black, as if he emitted his own light.  Ken smiled, the tension in his shoulders unraveling.   
  
“Wormmon!” his voice was high with relief and joy as he turned around, pushing off against the sand.    
  
He stumbled, struggling to find purchase in the shifty ground.  With every step he sank a little deeper, and the heat seemed to grow more intense.  Like a steam room, or an oven, so warm, air thick like soup.  It slowed him down.  His palms slammed against his knees, his elbows locked as he braced himself, breathing heavily.  His gaze dropped, sweat rolling off his face, disappearing into the ground.     
  
“Ken-chan, come find me,” the little voice trilled.     
  
Ken sucked in as deep a breath as he could manage, dark hair thrashing about his face as he lifted his head, ready to call out to his Digimon partner -- but instead of Wormmon at a distance, he now stood directly in front of a large egg.  The words died on his lips.  Ken recognized this digi-egg, bright and gleaming in the bed of shadows, patterned in heart-shaped spots . He could never forget it. Ken fell to his knees, grasping it reverently in his hands.  It burned like hot iron, it seared his skin, but still he held it.    
  
“Wormmon?”  he whispered.   
  
The egg cracked.  Smoke billowed out of the crevices, and Ken moved to burry his face in the crook of his elbow, but he would not drop the egg.  It smelled of fire and ash, and filled his nostrils with a burning that brought tears to his eyes.  And then, all at once, the egg disintegrated in his hands, dark ashes slipping through his fingers.  Ken felt his heart in his throat, his stomach turning over in agony.  All he could do was stare at his soiled palms, a mix of dying embers and sweat coating his skin, his eyes wide in shock.     
  


_ What’s lost cannot return. _

  
It was still too hot.  The silent tears that streamed from his eyes felt like boiling water, scalding his cheeks.  He felt the words in his mouth, but they couldn’t reach his ears.  Slowly, a pair of arms circled him, pinning his arms to his sides, palms drifting over his chest. A body pressed up against his back.     
  
“Hey man, you don’t look so good.”  The breath on his neck caused the hairs there to stand on end.  He’d know that voice anywhere.  Ken’s mouth was dry, but he tried to speak anyway.   
  
“Motomiya?”  Confused, his voice wavered, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.  He tried to turn his head, but a hand caught his jaw, holding his gaze fixed forward.  The tears continued to run from his eyes, as if they were a leaky faucet.  He tasted salt and sweat.  Fingertips trailed down from his chin, down his throat, caressing the muscle that ran from ear to clavicle.     
  
“C’mon, talk to me.  I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Hadn’t he heard these words before? Hadn’t he  _ just _ heard them?     
  
_ But it wasn’t like this before, it wasn’t... _

He tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.  The second hand drifted, lower, sliding from his chest, across his trembling torso, reaching for purchase on the boney ridge of his hip.  These arms had him bound like ropes, or snakes, and more than anything, Ken wanted to see his face.  He tried turning again, but those fingers pressed into the tender flesh of his throat, and he stilled.  His pulse raced beneath those calloused fingertips.  Ken swallowed, and found his tongue.   
  
“Motomiya… What’re you--”

“I’ll stay.”   
  
“What?”   
  
“I’ll stay.”   
  
_ Stay where? _   
  
The sound of waves crashing against the shore drifted distantly into his ears, mingled with the sound of that familiar breathing.  Somehow he was standing again, and he’d lost his shoes, somewhere. Water licked at his bare feet. Something else licked at his neck; soft, burning, sending a strange tingling down his spine.  Again, and again, drifting down the curve of his neck, across his shoulder.    
  
_ Daisuke...   _ He only ever called him that in his mind.  His lips could never seem to wrap around the sounds, but  _ Daisuke’s _ lips seemed to be doing a very good job of obliterating his senses.

How was he supposed to look for his shoes, like this?    
  
The water rose;  to his ankles, to his knees, to his waist.  He was soaked, from the inside, out.  He sank, as the world pressed in on him, and water filled his lungs.     
  
Ken screamed.   
  
His eyes shot open and he gasped. Air rushed into his lungs. His vision flooded with light so abruptly that he shut his eyes again, flinching away.  His head swam, but there was no more water, no more sand. The ground beneath him was firm, except for whatever it was that was tucked beneath his head and shoulders - lumpy, hard and soft at once.  Slowly, he dared to open his eyes again.  Sunlight dappled down through the leaves overhead, obstructed only by the blurred silhouette of the figure above him.  Slowly, it came into focus.  Sun-kissed skin, shoulders draped in an off-white t-shirt, and a shock of mahogany hair crowned with white rimmed goggles.  Daisuke’s face hoovered over him. 

  
“Hey,” said Daisuke, quietly, as if trying not to wake him. Uncharacteristic concern crinkled his brow, but he tried to smile through it.  “Welcome back.  You looked kinda restless there.  Bad dream?”   
  
Ken blinked slowly up at Daisuke.  His senses were gradually returning.  Minomon was curled tightly up against his side, sleeping soundly.  To Daisuke’s right, Chibimon was also asleep, and snoring softly.  Daisuke’s unusual softness made sense now.  As Ken shifted to one side, he caught a glimpse of red, blue, and gold beneath his cheek.  He recognized it almost immediately as Daisuke’s coat, the one that always appeared when they jumped over to the digital world.  The fabric was partially folded, and draped in an odd sort of cradle that Ken gradually came to recognize as Daisuke’s legs, folded crosswise; somehow or another, he had come to be lying in his best friend’s lap.  That would explain why Daisuke seemed to be looking at him upside-down.  Ken also distantly noticed that his own jacket had been removed, and the top few buttons of his collar undone.  Thin cotton clung to his clammy skin, and his limbs felt as though someone had tied cinder blocks to them. He remembered the ghostly sensations against his neck.     


Ken decided not to answer Daisuke’s question about his dream.     
  
“How long was I out?” asked Ken, his voice rough, his throat parched.   
  
“You’ve been in and out for the past couple hours or so. But, maybe twenty minutes?”  replied Daisuke.  

Ken paused.  His eyes burned in the sockets, and the world seemed to be slowly tilting, “It’s hot…”  he breathed, still feeling as though he were trapped in that dark sauna of his mind.   


“That’s because you have a fever,” said Daisuke, reaching for something out of Ken’s line of sight.  “You’ve been burning up for the last few hours.” he added, an attempt at sounding casual that rang hollow in Ken’s ears.

“Hours…” he parroted, as if he were still processing the information.   
  
“Do you remember what happened?”   
  
Ken closed his eyes.  His stomach clenched and turned over, but mercifully stopped at that.  His arm throbbed painfully.  He knew now, he was definitely awake, the dream dissolving slowly like grains of sand through his fingers.  Ken reached to pull Minomon closer, his partner reflexively snuggling in.  “Yeah… yeah, I remember now.”     
  
When he opened his eyes again, he was faced with a half-empty plastic water bottle hovering in front of his face.   
  
“Here.  You’re probably pretty thirsty, right?” Daisuke offered  “Sorry it’s not more.  Think you can handle it this time?”

Ken took a moment to mull over the question. That bitter taste from before still lingered on his tongue, if he paid attention.  Finally, he nodded slightly, then pulled himself to sit up.  The world tilted, and spots danced in front of his eyes. Daisuke seemed uncertain whether he should help or not, his free hand hovering inches from Ken, but not quite touching him. Ken reached to take the water from Daisuke.  It was about as effective at quenching his thirst as it would have been trying to soak desert sand, but still he drank it.  Slowly, calmly, until there were only sparse drops clinging to the groves in the cheap plastic bottle.  If Ken didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he was on a boat, the way the world around him seemed to sway.   When he turned his head to look at Daisuke, he found his best friend staring at him anxiously, shoulders hunched over, hands planted on his knees.    
  
“...What?”  Ken asked apprehensively.   
  
The trance was broken, and Daisuke straightened up a bit.  “Ah.. it’s just… well, last time…”  he fumbled with his words, absently scratching at his face with his index finger.  Everything sounded a bit like soup in Ken’s ears.  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna… ya know…”   
  
“...Oh.”   _ Right.  _ Ken was distantly grateful that even if everything seemed to be whirling a bit, at least his stomach wasn’t joining the party. Yet.

The arm he was leaning on trembled beneath his weight.  The air was thick, and he felt like he couldn’t pull nearly enough of it into his lungs.  He heard a soft wheezing, whistling sound, and realized that it was coming from himself.     
  
“...Are… are you feeling any better?” Daisuke asked, his tone genuine, and uncertain.   
  
Ken averted his gaze.  He could tell that Daisuke desperately wanted the answer to be ‘yes’, but he just couldn’t force the lie past his tongue.  “About the same,” he offered instead.    
  
In truth, he didn’t feel as frightened as he had some time ago.  Instead he just felt sluggish, weighed down, like every little thing he normally took for granted was suddenly the most difficult thing to do.  Moving, drinking, breathing, it was all a struggle.  Despite his better judgement, Ken moved to lie back down.  This time, Daisuke  _ did  _ touch him,  leaning in to support his descent to the ground, back to the folded jacket.  Much to Ken’s surprise, Daisuke’s gloved hand settled on his head, gently stroking the hair out of his face.  It reminded him of the way his mother used to do when he was much younger.    
  
“Why did you stay?”  the words slipped out of Ken’s mouth before he’d even realized he was thinking them.     
  
Daisuke’s hand froze suddenly. “What?”   
  
Ken flinched.  It was too late to take it back.  “You chose to stay with me.  Why?”   
  
“What’re you talking about?” Daisuke replied, as if the question were the most preposterous thing he’d ever heard.  “I’m not just going to leave you alone like this.”   
  
“But you could have asked Miyako-san or Iori-kun to stay instead.”   
  
Daisuke fell silent.  Ken couldn’t see his face from where he was lying, so when Daisuke spoke again, Ken was surprised -- even through the fog, he thought he had never heard Daisuke sound so…  _ heartbroken.  _   


“Do…. Did you not want me here?”    
  
As if suddenly possessed, Ken shot off the ground, whirling to face Daisuke, and knocking poor Minomon just enough to jostle him awake.  “I didn’t say that!” Ken cried defensively, eyes searching out Daisuke’s face. 

The world turned grey, the spots returned, and he swallowed the bile he could feel rising in his throat.  Daisuke just stared at him with his mouth agape and eyes wide in surprise. Minomon, still half-asleep, stared up at both of them.  Ken breathed heavily, waiting for some kind of response from Daisuke.  After what seemed like hours of silent eye contact, Daisuke pulled his gaze away, glancing sidelong at Chibimon, still nestled beside him.  

“If something were to happen to you, and I hadn’t been here to do anything about it? I’d probably never forgive myself,” he replied softly, absently reaching down to stroke Chibimon’s head. “You’re my best friend.  So… it had to be me.”

Ken was at a loss for words. His chest ached.  Wordlessly, Minomon crawled up beside him, resting tiny feet on his leg.  He almost didn’t notice.

“...Motomiya…” Ken breathed, an attempt to break the awkward silence. 

“...Why do you still call me that?”   
  
“What?”

Daisuke finally looked up at him, a strange tinge of sadness pulling at his normally bright eyes.  

  
“ ‘Motomiya’. I’ve been calling you ‘Ken’ for years now.  And you call literally every other one of the chosen by their given names… except me.  I mean, you did it once, but now that kinda feels like it was just an accident.”

Everything was blurry around the edges.  Ken inhaled, then exhaled.  In his mind, he always thought of him as ‘Daisuke’, but his best friend was right -- he almost never called him that out loud.  Especially when others were around.   He had never thought about it before, but now that Daisuke brought it up, he felt a stab of guilt.  

“Sorry,” Daisuke continued, rubbing the back of his neck, ”I’ve got the worst timing ever…“   
  
“I didn’t realize you felt that way,” replied Ken, his voice barely above a whisper.   
  
“I just thought, we were closer than that, ya know?  … Was I wrong?”

Ken felt as though a knife had been run through his heart.     
  
“Yes!  --No! I mean…” he fumbled, and reached for Daisuke’s arm.  His lungs burned. His head throbbed.  There wasn’t enough air.  “You’re wrong, about this.  Of course we’re close.  You… aside from Wormmon, you were my first real friend.  You two were the only ones who accepted me when I couldn’t even accept myself.   There is no one else I know, who compares to you.”   
  
The world around him was growing darker at the edges.  Desperate to keep him in focus, and maybe a bit delirious, Ken reached trembling hands for Daisuke’s face.  His cheeks felt cool in his burning palms, fingertips brushing temples, soft hairs tickling his knuckles.   
  
“...Ken?”  Wide brown eyes peered back at him in confusion as Ken pulled himself closer. 

“I want you to know… you are precious to me, Motomiya.   _ Daisuke. _ ”   
  
Maybe it was the fever.  Maybe it was the way he felt reality slipping away from him and he was holding on for dear life, or he thought that Daisuke hadn’t  _ heard _ him well enough.  He could, and likely would think of a thousand excuses, later.  Whatever the reason, Ken chose that moment to unceremoniously, and with no grace whatsoever, crush his lips against Daisuke’s.   

  
Maybe it wasn’t what Daisuke had had in mind, but in Ken’s fuzzy, bleeding world, deprived of oxygen, he could have sworn he felt Daisuke’s fingers thread through his hair.  Ken felt suddenly light headed, as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs.  How long had it been since he’d been able to draw a full breath? His mind blinked in and out, and his shaking hands slipped from Daisuke’s face, catching on his collarbones. Their lips broke apart, and Ken gasped for air.  He dimly noticed that Daisuke did the same.  Gloved fingers slipped from his dark hair, to his neck, Daisuke’s face hovering so close that Ken felt him more than he saw him, their noses nearly touching.  For a long moment, neither of them spoke.   

  
“...Ken?”  Daisuke’s voice cracked, one syllable full of confusion and uncertainty.  Ken felt Daisuke’s breath against his his own wavering lips.    
  
“I…”  Ken tried, but he was still alarmingly short of breath.  Pale fingers curled and uncurled at the neck of Daisuke’s t-shirt.  His glassy eyes wandered, but his vision did not clear.     
  
“...You…?”  Daisuke awkwardly urged him to continue, his voice distant and tinny in Ken’s ears. 

He tried again, but his throat closed.  “--C-can’t…. Bre… ”   
  
Ken didn’t get to finish his sentence.  He heard the sound of his name as if from far away, and the world closed in around him. 


	4. Part IV

_VIRAL; Adjective  
     4. a corrupting influence on morals or the intellect; poison._

* * *

 

Of all the things Daisuke had ever imagined coming from Ken, especially in that moment, this was not one of them.  Hands on his face, thin fingers in his hair, so close that Ken was all that filled his senses. It wasn’t that he’d never been this close to his best friend before, but something about the way he was looking him straight in the eye, the tone in his voice when Ken said his _name_ , Daisuke’s heart leapt like a bullfrog into his throat, and there it stuck.  Suddenly, there was no distance between them at all.  It was clumsy (a word not often used to describe Ken Ichijouji) and a wonder that their noses didn’t collide in the process.  For a moment, Daisuke was frozen, his whole body rigid in response to the burning sensation of Ken’s feverish lips against his own.  He was Fourteen, and he was confused, because his best friend was cradling his face in his hands, _kissing_ him with all the finesse of a toaster oven… and he didn’t hate it.  

He _didn’t hate it._ It was… _weird._ It was _unexpected_ , and given the situation, maybe inappropriate, or at least poorly timed.  But after the initial shock wore off, and the bullfrog deflated, Daisuke found himself weirdly drawn into the whole thing, his hands moving of their own volition to run gloved fingers through Ken’s hair.

 _What the hell are we doing?_   
  
He shifted his fingers, and forgot to breathe through his nose.  Their lips parted, and air rushed in. Daisuke was still reeling, trying to reconcile what had just happened as Ken tried to speak…

Then, Ken swooned. It wasn’t that over-dramatic and romantic way that Daisuke had seen in his sister’s favorite TV Dramas.  Ken was quite literally breathless, his unfocused gaze betraying a distant tinge of alarm before his lids fluttered, eyes rolling back.  The fog and fluttering inside Daisuke’s chest instantly cleared, replaced by ice and unprecedented panic.

“Ken-chan!” Minomon cried, as Ken slumped forward into Daisuke’s shoulder.  

“Shit-- No, no, _no_ ,” muttered Daisuke, frantically taking Ken’s face in his hands.     
  
Ken’s jaw hung slack, his eyelids mostly shut.  Falling asleep was one thing, but this?  Daisuke had enough sense to know that this was not normal.  People weren’t supposed to just pass out!

“C’mon Ken, wake up,” he pleaded, squishing his face, desperately patting his cheek.  His efforts did nothing to rouse his friend.  His eyelids fluttered, his throat moved, but no sound came from his mouth.  With shaking hands and wide eyes, Daisuke lowered Ken to the ground. Frantically, Daisuke ripped the gloves from his hands, his fingers flying out to feel along Ken’s throat.

  
“Daisuke, what’s wrong?!”  it was Chibimon this time, fully awake now, pressed up against Minomon.  

Big tears were falling silently from the Larva Digimon’s eyes, but Daisuke barely noticed them, his attention singularly focused on Ken.  He could hear his own heart pounding fiercely in his ears, the rattling of his own rapid breathing, and little else.  Finally, his fingers found a pulse. The sensation was thready, like the twitching of butterfly wings beneath his touch.  Daisuke felt his chest constrict.    
  
“T-this… this is my fault,” Daisuke mumbled to himself. “I shouldn’t have let him move around so much, I should’ve kept him _calm_ .”   
  
Daisuke grasped Ken’s shoulders, shaking him gently, slapping his face, _anything_ to get him to come around.  Ken’s lips moved soundlessly as he strained for breath, but nothing else.  His chest did not rise and fall in the way it should have. It took every ounce of Daisuke’s willpower not to become hysterical… and he was losing that fight.  Pressing a fist to his forehead, Daisuke clenched his eyes shut.   

  
“Ken.  Please.   _Please_ , open your eyes…” he croaked.

He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. He could feel a burning beneath his eyelids.  “I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know how to help you.  I’m so _useless.”_

The silence that followed was deafening. Chibimon and Minomon gazed at their human partners, distressed, but frozen.  Wordlessly, Daisuke grasped Ken’s hand in his, squeezing as if he thought he could physically hold Ken’s life in his body.  Then, his other arm reached out, fiercely drawing Ken up against his chest.  Hot tears slid out of Daisuke’s eyes, leaving trails down his face.   
  
“Stay with me,” he hissed into Ken’s hair.  “I refuse to lose you to _this_ . Don’t you _dare_ give up on me.”   


When the sound of his name drifted across the air, Daisuke almost didn’t hear it.   When it called a second time, faint and distant, he thought he imagined it.  When it came a third time, there was no mistaking it.    
  
“Daisuke, look!” Chibimon cried, pointing his tiny little arm toward the sky.

Daisuke’s gaze followed the gesture.  There on the horizon, nearly blotting out the setting sun, was the distinct silhouette of Aquilamon.  As he drew closer, The figures of Miyako, Iori, and Armadimon came into focus.  Daisuke felt his heart give a lurch of hope as the giant horned bird descended from the sky.  Barely had his talons touched the ground, and there was Miyako, alighting from his back, carefully cradling what Daisuke would have sworn was an old ceramic sake pitcher.  She wasted no time in dashing across the grass, Iori and Armadimon lagging further behind.   
  
“Daisuke!” she called again, eyes burning with equal parts intense hope and exhaustion as she held the vessel aloft, “we’ve got it!”   
  
As she drew closer though, her eyes landed on the still form in Daisuke’s arms, and her expression sobered. Ken looked so small and fragile, a stark contrast to when they had last seen him only a few hours earlier.  Daisuke watched the elation in her eyes vanish, replaced with a feeling that Daisuke recognized all too well; fear.

“Is he--”  
  
“He passed out,” Daisuke replied quickly, trying for all the world to look like he hadn’t been crying just a minute ago.  “Just, all of a sudden. I can’t get him to come around, and he’s barely breathing.”   
  
Miyako dropped to her knees beside the boys.  “Then how are we supposed to get him to drink this?” she wondered aloud, the new wave of panic beginning to seep into her voice.     
  
“Try pouring some of it into his mouth anyway.”  Both Daisuke and Miyako looked up as Iori approached, breathing heavily from his dash to catch up with them. “We can’t waste time.  We’ll have to hope he swallows it reflexively.”   
  
Nodding solemnly, Miyako pressed the lip of the pitcher against Ken’s slacked mouth.  As Daisuke supported him from behind, Miyako tilted the vessel.  Lukewarm blue liquid sloshed from the ceramic, only to dribble from the corner of his mouth.   
  
“It’s not working,” she fretted.   
  
“Tilt his head back a little,” Iori suggested, and Daisuke complied.   
  
Miyako gnawed anxiously on her bottom lip, and then grasped Ken’s chin in her free hand.  Daisuke felt his heart hammering in his throat as he watched Miyako’s second attempt.  They couldn’t afford to waste any of the remedy, but neither could they afford to waste time.   This time, it went down, but instead of swallowing, Ken’s body jerked violently with a choking cough, his head lashing to the side.  Miyako jumped back as blue fluid dripped from his lips, his eyes slowly fluttering open.   
  
“Hey, I think he’s coming to!” cried Iori.

“Ken-kun, look at me,” said Miyako, gently grasping his jaw again. “I need you to drink this, ok?”  
  
Dull, half-lidded eyes shifted aimlessly.  Whether or not he really heard them, they couldn’t be sure. Miyako pinched his chin, wordlessly demanding his focus.  Daisuke’s grip on Ken tightened reflexively, anticipating more thrashing.  For the third time, Miyako pressed the mouth of the pitcher to Ken’s lips, her brow creased in determination.  Slowly, hesitantly, she poured. This time, much to their collective relief, Ken swallowed.   His eyelids twitched, slipping down over violet irises, the occasional weak protest rising from his throat as he swallowed what Daisuke could only assume from the smell, was a foul-tasting brew.   
  
“How much of it is he supposed to take?” Daisuke asked.   
  
“I dunno.  They didn’t tell us that.  But I’d say as much as we can get him to swallow,” Miyako replied, her eyes never straying from Ken’s face.   
  
After what seemed like hours, the vessel was drained, with only a few stray tracks of blue running down Ken’s pale chin.  He gasped for breath and choked on the soft groan that worked it’s way from his throat.  Gentle as she could be, Miyako released his jaw, allowing his head to roll against Daisuke’s shoulder.   For a long moment, all gathered were quiet as Ken seemed to relax, somehow more peaceful after the whole ordeal was over.  If he had truly been conscious before, the moment had passed.  In the end, it was Daisuke who broke the silence.

“So, now what?” he asked softly, his voice catching in his throat.  
  
“Now…”  Iori exhaled a sigh,  “Now, we wait.”

* * *

The world came back to Ken in a slow wash of sensation.  First, the sound of crickets and the comfortable chill of evening against his closed eyes.  Next, the feel of something warm pressed up against his side, a gentle but familiar weight on his chest.  As if waking from a long dream, Ken slowly dared to open his eyes.  Darkness loomed overhead, dotted with pinpoints of light peeking through leaves and branches. As his head rolled to the side, his unfocused eyes caught the dim glow of a dancing fire, the shadows of three figures huddled around it.  The sound of hushed voices mixed with the crickets.  Slowly, he lifted his left arm.  His sleeve had been rolled up past the elbow, the once garish wound in is forearm covered and wrapped in a white bandage.  The pain was almost nonexistent. His brow crinkled as he mentally reconciled the difference between how it felt, and how he remembered it.  Somehow, it didn’t add up.  How had it gotten bandaged? When had the sun gone down?  He couldn’t remember any of it.  Shifting ever so slightly, pulling himself up on his elbows, Ken found the source of the warmth beside him.  Wormmon was coiled up between his arm and his ribs, head nestled atop his chest.  A smile pulled at his lips as Ken raised a hand to stroke his partner between the antennae on his head.    
  
“Wormmon,” he breathed, a light and reassuring feeling washing over him.

Antennae twitched reflexively, and wide blue eyes opened, inches from Ken’s face.    
  
“Ken-chan?” Wormmon whispered, halfway between sleep and awake.  The grogginess quickly dissolved, and Wormmon jumped.  “Ken-chan!  You’re awake!”   
  
The sound of Wormmon’s delighted cries drew the attention of the figures around the fire.  Big tears welled up in the digimon’s eyes, rolling down his little cheeks as he nuzzled against Ken’s face.  Ken just smiled warmly, drawing Wormmon closer.  

“Mm… I’m sorry I worried you.” he whispered to his partner.    
  
What followed was a cacophony of familiar voices calling his name, and a disorienting number of arms wrapped around him.  Hair in his face, in his ears, squeaks of elated humans and squished Digimon.   
  
“Hey-- you guys,” Ken croaked, voice soft but laced with joy, “you’re squeezing too hard.”   
  
It was like someone had pulled a trigger, and everyone released him at once.  The air rushed back into his lungs in a way that was so normal, so easily taken for granted.  Finally able to take it all in, Ken fully sat up and looked around at the crowd assembled.  Aside from Wormmon, Daisuke and Miyako were the closest, obviously the ones who had been affectionately wringing the life out of him, their faces plastered with teary smiles.  Then there was Vmon, draped on Daisuke and clinging to his head.  Hawkmon hovered just beyond Miyako’s shoulder, and then further back, standing near Ken’s feet were Armadimon and Iori, the firelight casting shadows that danced across his exhausted but relieved expression.   
  
“You had us _so scared_ ,” Miyako whined, scrubbing at her wet cheeks with the heel of her hand.     
  
“We weren’t sure you were gonna come out of it.”  Daisuke added, and before Ken realized it, he found gloved fingers wrapped around his free hand.      
  
Ken’s face fell into an expression of pure guilt, his eyes shifting down into his lap.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, truly feeling the weight of shame on his chest.  

“We’re just glad to see you awake!” cried Daisuke, unable to mask the elation in his voice.  
  
“You looked pretty bad when we got back.  We didn’t know if we’d made it in time,” Iori added softly.     
  
Ken glanced up again.  Now that Iori mentioned it, the last Ken could remember, the two of them had not returned, and the sun was still in the sky.  Now, they were all together again, the digimon had all returned to their child forms, and he found there was a large gap in his memory.   
  
“I feel fine now. Better than fine  … How?” asked Ken, fingers brushing his temples as if he could force himself to conjure the memories.   
  
“That boiled flower stuff actually worked.  Miyako barely got you to drink it before you completely blacked out on us, and that was a couple hours ago.”  

Daisuke’s recount of events did little to aid in Ken’s recollections.  He remembered the taste of something tepid and bitter on his tongue, sliding down his throat.  He remembered choking, and gasping, smothering heat, and a grasp on reality so weak that he felt he was clawing his way out of a dark hole, only to fall back in again.  There were other things too, like sand, the sound of the ocean, and feverish lips… but he couldn’t be sure how much of it was real, and how much of it he’d merely dreamed.  How delirious had he been?   
  
Ken duly shook his head, as if to clear the vague images polluting his mind.  He lifted his gaze and looked at Miyako.  It was a bit embarrassing in hindsight, to think of someone practically force-feeding him medicine, and his cheeks colored at the thought.  Still, Ken knew well enough that his pride didn’t matter -- he should be, and was, incredibly grateful.  He wanted to thank them, but when he opened his mouth, no sound immediately came out.  Words seemed inadequate.

“We used the same plant to make a poultice for your arm,” Miyako began, as if trying to save him from his own awkwardness.  She gestured to the bandages, for emphasis.  “It’s basically a medicinal paste. We figured, it couldn’t hurt.”  
  
“Ah, Mm…” Ken murmured, turning his arm over.  “It does feel much better.”

Miyako seemed quite proud of herself, a wide grin splitting her face.

“Really, I owe all of you so much,” Ken began, turning to look at each of them in turn. “ _Thank You_ just doesn’t seem like enough.”

“You’d do the same for any of us.”   
  
With that, Miyako rose to her feet.  

“If you’re really feeling better, we should all head home!  My mom is probably going to tear my head off for not telling her I was going to be late,” she said good naturedly, stretching her arms over her head.   
  
“I hope my mom and grandpa aren’t too upset…” Iori added.   
  
“Eh, it’s not like they don’t know we come out here,” said Daisuke dismissively.  “I think at this point I’ve gotten in trouble so much for staying out late, my parents stopped caring.”

They all laughed.  Well, all except Ken, who just gave him a knowing smile.  He knew he was likely going to be dealing with a frantic mother when he called home, but she had been a bit more understanding over the years.   
  
Just like that, they were all moving again, as if nothing had ever happened.  Armadimon and Iori were pushing dirt and sand on the fire to snuff it out, while Miyako set about returning the clearing to the state they’d found it it in.  Daisuke released his grip on Ken’s hand, and Ken felt the absence quite deeply.  It didn’t last long. Once on his feet, Daisuke extended his hand again and Ken took hold without a second thought. Arm braced, using Daisuke as his anchor, Ken was on his feet with less help than he’d expected to need.  His hand lingered as he looked into Daisuke’s face in the dying firelight.   Ken was so caught up in watching the shadows playing over Daisuke’s cheeks that he didn’t see Miyako looking back, watching them.

Miyako was standing quite still, clutching her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white.  The last of the flames flickered in the lenses of her glasses as she watched the boys.  No one gave her enough credit, but Miyako was far from unobservant.  She watched the way their hands lingered, the gentle, vague expression on Ken’s face, and the all too familiar light in Daisuke’s eyes.   

“Miyako-san?”  Iori’s quiet voice queried over the whispers of smoke from the dying fire.  

She turned at the sound of her name, exchanging a glance with Iori.  He looked at her, then sidelong to where Ken and Daisuke stood.  It took only a moment for her to catch his meaning.  She shook her head.  
  
“I don’t think now’s a good time,” she said, an oddly knowing, melancholy tone in her voice as she turned her attention back to the boys.   
  
Not one to push, Iori let it drop.  It was none of his business to begin with.   


When Iori turned to follow Miyako’s gaze again, Ken and Daisuke were slipping off through the trees, Daisuke leading Ken by the hand.  Iori paused.

“Where are they going?” he wondered aloud.  
  
“Just let them be.”   
  
Iori looked back at Miyako, confusion creasing his brow.  He really would never understand girls.   


* * *

“What is it you wanted to talk about?”  
  
Satisfied that they were far enough removed to afford them some privacy, Daisuke turned back to look at a confused Ken.  “Do you wanna stay at my place tonight?”

“Huh?”    
  
“I just mean…”  Daisuke reached to rub the back of his neck, “Well, it’s been a long day… didn’t know if you’d want to rush home after all … this.”

 _God that sounds so dumb_. He thought to himself.

No matter how dumb Daisuke could be though, Ken never seemed to mind.  He sighed softly.   
  
“You may have a good point…. I’d really rather not tell my mother the truth either, she doesn’t need the stress. And if I have to cover it up, she may be less angry if she thinks I just lost track of time playing video games.”   
  
A quick glance down at his arm reminded Ken that his jacket, and shirt, were both ruined.  “I’m going to have a hard enough time explaining that I ruined my clothes.”   
  
“Seriously?  You mom’s so sweet, you really think she’s gonna care about a ripped shirt?” Daisuke asked, craning his head to the side.   
  
“A ripped shirt, and a torn and stained uniform jacket,” Ken clarified, as if it made a difference.   


Their eyes met, and they laughed.  Tears of mirth filled Daisuke’s eyes and Ken’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.  The whole thing was rather ridiculous, when compared to the rest of their day.  It all seemed so surreal now, as if they’d all just had one giant shared nightmare, and they had finally woken. As Daisuke reached to rub his eyes, he was struck with complete clarity of exactly one thing; he was still holding Ken’s hand.    
  
Ken seemed to notice at exactly the same time.  The laughter died, replaced by the soft but deafening sound of crickets.  Perhaps a bit too obviously, Daisuke let go.   
  
Was this weird now?  It’s not like they’d never held hands before.  But now that everything had worked itself out, all the terror and impending doom passed, Daisuke found himself thinking back to that moment before Ken had collapsed in his arms.  He thought about the tone in his voice, the flush in his cheeks, the sound of his name in Ken’s voice.  He thought about the way Ken had forced the space between them to disappear, and the way he’d reciprocated.  A quick glance up, and to Daisuke’s eyes Ken looked bewildered.  Daisuke paused, before tucking both of his hands into his pockets.   
  
“Listen… about before...”

Dark eyes peered back at him from the shadows.  “Before?”

His heart sank.   _Doesn’t he remember?_

Of course not.  What had he expected?  Ken had been suffering from a raging fever for hours,  it should have been surprising if he _wasn’t_ a little delirious.  Somehow, It bothered him a little more than it should have.  He’d been so confused about it before, shouldn’t he have been _happy_ to pretend as if it had never happened?

But… it _had_ been his first kiss, after all.   
  
Daisuke shook his head, clearing his thoughts.  “Ya know what, nevermind, it’s not important.”   
  
But his feet couldn’t take him away from the moment fast enough.  “C’mon, we should catch up with the others.”   
  
Ken’s hand caught his elbow as he passed.     


“Daisuke.”  
  
He froze, heart hammering like a war drum in his chest.   Turning over his shoulder, he smiled at Ken.     
  
“So, you remember that much at least.”

Startled, Ken abruptly released him. Color blossomed over his cheeks as he withdrew into himself.  As he’d done since the day he’d decided that Ken was going to be a part of their team, Daisuke reached out.  Quietly, he grasped Ken’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and a gentle tug.

“Let’s go home.”

It would have to be enough.

* * *

**EPILOGUE:**

  
Ken remembered everything.  Although he’d woken in a fog of fragmented memories, eventually it had all coalesced into something coherent and vivid.   He couldn’t sleep.  Wormmon was nestled up on the futon beside him, truly peaceful for the first time in hours.  Ken had nearly memorized the surface of the ceiling in Daisuke’s bedroom, the soft sound of snoring a comforting ambience in the otherwise dark silence of midnight.  In the practical sense, he was alone with his thoughts.

 

Sighing softly, Ken turned onto his side, facing Daisuke’s bed.  White goggles dangled from the corner of the headboard.  As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the distinct lump beneath the covers, the tufts of messy hair protruding where comforter and pillow met.   

Daisuke had always gone above and beyond, for his sake.  He forced Ken out of his self-imposed isolation, and he pulled him into the fold with the rest of the chosen children.  He’d given him a chance, had faith in him when no one else had.  They had always seen each other for what they truly were, even when they had stood on opposite sides of the battle field.  If the rest of the chosen found their closeness odd, no one dared say a word on the matter.  Daisuke wasn’t everything to Ken, but he was certainly a lot of things.  Friend.  Confidant.  Partner.  In Ken’s eyes, no one had a bigger heart than Daisuke Motomiya.  There was so much compassion in him that Ken sometimes thought he could drown in it.   
  
Sometimes, he didn’t think he deserved even a fraction of what Daisuke gave him.

Ken pressed his knuckles against his lips, and closed his eyes.  He knew that back in the digital work, Daisuke had wanted to ask him what that kiss had meant.  He could think of an endless list of excuses for it, but none of them would have been true.

The truth was, the fever had only broken down the wall of his inhibitions. His deepest, most well-hidden feelings overflowed like a river in a hurricane.  In that moment, all he had known was the sad look in Daisuke’s eyes, and the deepest desire to prove to him just how important he was.  He remembered the overwhelming urge to touch his best friend, to negate the space between them.  
  
_I went too far,_ he thought to himself.  A sinking feeling filled his chest.  

He could never let Daisuke know, that he remembered everything.  That some part of him had wanted to say those things for a long time.  That the reason he could never call Daisuke by his given name was some unidentified fear that if anyone heard him utter those syllables, they’d somehow hear it in his voice, and know exactly how he felt.   

Nevermind that Ken himself still wasn’t entirely sure how to put these feelings into word.

Nestling deeper into his pillow, Ken slowly opened his eyes again. When he did, he was surprised to find Daisuke lying on his side, eyes open and staring back at him in the darkness.    
  
“Having trouble sleeping?”  he asked softly, so as not to wake their digimon partners.   
  
Ken stared back at him, but slowly nodded.     
  
Much to his further surprise, Daisuke inched back on his bed, lifting the comforter.     
  
“Why don’t you come up here?”   
  
Ken could almost _feel_ the color drain from his face.     
  
“I-- I’m not a child,” Ken sputtered indignantly, shrinking under his own bedding. “I don’t need to be coddled just because I have insomnia.”   
  
“I never said you did,” Daisuke countered, rolling his eyes, still holding back the blankets.  “Just get up here, you idiot.”

Something in the back of Ken’s mind screamed that this was extremely inappropriate.  They weren’t _kids_ anymore, and even when they were, they’d never shared a bed.   Still, his body seemed to move without his permission.  Slowly, he peeled back his blankets, careful not to disturb Wormmon as he set his feet softly on the carpet.  He stood at the side of the bed for what felt like the longest five seconds of his life before sitting down on the edge.     
  
“C’mon man, I don’t bite,” said Daisuke.   
  
“I’m not so sure about that,” Ken replied with a smirk.   
  
Impatience won over and Daisuke sat up, reaching an arm around his best friend and pulling them both down to the mattress.  Without so much as missing a beat, Daisuke yanked the comforter up around them, the soft warmth settling over them.  Daisuke’s bed was small, not really made to hold two teenaged boys, so Ken sheepishly settled himself on the outer edge, facing away from Daisuke.  Still, he could feel the warmth of his best friend beside him, and he pressed his face into the pillow to hide the flush that crept it’s way up his neck.   
  
He stopped moving when he felt Daisuke’s arms wrap around him, pulling him back toward the center of the bed as his nose pressed into Ken’s shoulder.   
  
“...Daisuke?”  Ken croaked, the sensation conjuring up memories of fever dreams.     
  
“You really scared me today.”

The room felt suddenly cold.  Daisuke continued.  
  
“I thought… I might actually lose you.  I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared in my whole life.”

Ken’s restraint dissolved like sugar in hot tea.  He folded his arms over top of Daisuke’s, finally taking comfort in the closeness.   He knew, they’d never speak of this again.  The sun would rise, and it would be as if none of it had ever happened.  Ken would go on pretending he didn’t remember their kiss, and knowing Daisuke, he’d probably believe him.   Ken would bury those strangely intense feelings for his best friend, the only hint being the special reverence he showed every time he said his name.   They’d be normal.  
  
At least, as normal as they had ever been.  

“Me too,”  Ken whispered, squeezing Daisuke’s hand. “But it’s ok now.  I’ll stay.”  
  
And that would have to be enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, “Viral” is finished. I don’t know that it’s my best work, but it scratched the itch I had, and I’m hoping you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I tried to leave things as ‘untouched’ at the end as I possibly could, to allow for any further events in Tri (that we haven’t seen yet) to not completely contradict this little piece. I’ll be writing more Digimon fic in the future (I’ve already started on a new project) so be on the look-out!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! If you'd like to keep up with my writing progress/updates, and see some of my much shorter drabble works, check out the "sumi writes stuff" tag on my tumblr, Sumiscribe  
> https://sumiscribe.tumblr.com/tagged/Sumi-Writes-Stuff


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